


It's a New Story

by idelthoughts



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, F/M, Feel Good Fix-It, Gen, Post-Finale, Season 2 Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3908557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idelthoughts/pseuds/idelthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are moments when you know that everything has changed.  Between one eye blink and the next, the world becomes a different place.  Sometimes it’s something earth-shattering, but other times it's as simple as a few words.  A handful of words can change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a New Story

**Author's Note:**

> Losing our show is hard and painful. Everything's changed for Henry and crew, but it's also a change for those of us who've appreciated the show so much this last year. So, in order to help us all say goodbye and feel a little less sore about the cancellation, I wrote this. All my love, Forever fandom. You guys are the best.
> 
> Thank you to pipsqueak119 and aika_max for the quick beta work! Much appreciated.

_There are moments when you know that everything has changed. Between one eye blink and the next, the world becomes a different place._

_We all have these moments. Sometimes it’s something earth-shattering like the death of a loved one. Other times it’s a loss of security—a job, a home. Sometimes it’s subtler than that; something so simple, so tiny, one little pebble among a mountain. When it’s gone, everything crumbles down and reshapes into a new unrecognizable form. You find yourself on unstable ground, wondering if it will ever be the same again._

_Sometimes, it’s as simple as a few words. A handful of words can change everything._

***

 

The precinct loomed in front of Henry, standing over him with its usual drab monolithic architecture. The morning sun was behind the building, and while the spring brought with it the stifling heat of midday, the morning shadows still held their chill. Henry had underestimated the cold when he’d left the store, and not bothered to return to put on a coat over his jacket after hopping on his bicycle. Even so, he lingered before the doors, uncertain.

Four years ago he’d walked in for his first day with the OCME. His latest and greatest idea, after years of studying pathology and brushing up his medical knowledge, after securing false identification and bogus university degrees, to come to this place. He’d thought, then, that he was doing his due diligence in exploring all his options. He’d needed a project of some kind to keep him busy, and cataloguing his own deaths had grown repetitive. A man could die of the same pedantic things over and over again, given enough time. But New Yorkers never ran out of creative ways to die—in the four years he’d been an assistant chief, he’d catalogued at least ten new causes per year that had never before been recorded on the books. That alone had made the choice worth it. He was breaking ground, finally finding new information.

It had been going so well. Smooth, calm, and predictable. A good life, if a numb one. Everything in its place. And then—

“Dr. Morgan. Planning to stand there all morning?”

Henry started and spun around to find Lieutenant Reece on the sidewalk behind him. He smiled widely through his embarrassment at being caught in absent-minded daydreams.

“Sorry, lost in thought. I was just realizing it’s my fourth year here.”

“That all?” Reece said, raising an eyebrow, then tilting her head. “It’ll be a year for me this fall. Feels like longer already.”

He chuckled at the well-understood sentiment, and they walked towards the entrance together. The lieutenant had a briefcase in one hand and a coffee in the other, and so Henry reached for the precinct door to open and hold it for her as she passed through. Henry was about to take his leave of her, but Reece stopped him.

“Henry, just a moment.”

They moved to the side out of the way of the doors, and Henry waited, curious what she would say.

“Do you like your job here?” she asked. She made a noise to forestall his automatic affirmative response, and he fell silent again. “No, think before you answer. Do you like what you do here?”

Henry frowned, confused by her stressing the point. He hardly needed the time to dwell on the question. He nodded.

“Yes. I truly do. To be frank, I can’t—” Henry glanced towards the hallway leading to the morgue, one he’d walked thousands of times now in his years here. “I can’t imagine what else I would be doing if I weren’t here.”

“Neither can I. You’re good at it, and I can’t think of another M.E. who can do what you do,” Reece said warmly, but her friendly mien faded. She moved closer to him and lowered her voice. “But things have to change. No more crazy stunts. No running off, no secret strategies without telling me, no borrowing evidence. We clear? If you go too far, I can’t help you. I know you like to get results, but that can’t be at the cost of procedure and rules. I’d like to see you keep your job, but you’re very close to the line. Don’t make me make this an official conversation, Henry.”

Henry wondered what Jo had told Reece. In all their talking yesterday, it hadn’t come up. So much had come up, so much discussed, meandering bits of history, putting what she knew of him in proper context, trying to make it all make sense. They’d spent so long talking about all the long ago stories that they’d not considered discussing the immediate circumstances. Little things like stealing evidence and manipulating suspects had not made it to the table.

But today was a new day. Things were different now. He’d spent three peaceful years here without so much as a blip of trouble before Adam walked into his life, and now he could continue again. He’d merely done his best to survive the circumstances presented him, and now that he was free and Adam’s shadow didn’t loom over him, he could do it once more. Henry straightened and bowed his head deferentially to Reece.

“I apologize, Lieutenant. You have my word, it won’t happen again.”

“Thank you. I won’t keep you any longer. Have a good day, Doctor.”

Reece turned from him to head for the elevators, and after a moment watching her walk away, Henry continued on to the lab, a spring in his step. Perhaps there was still hope for all this to straighten out.

 

***

_Life won’t ever be the same. Sure, that’s not the most uplifting thought—not when it hurts, when the change is brutal and fast, and you feel like you can’t breathe from the pain of it._

_No, it’s not the same, but new ground is new territory, and is to be explored. Change is painful, but it is necessary. Without it, we stagnate._

***

 

The sound of a cardboard box hitting the linoleum flooring brought Henry’s attention from the Y-incision he was cutting into the middle-aged woman on the slab. Knife poised, he looked up to see Lucas standing in the entrance, still in his street clothes, an empty filing box at his feet with the lid knocked askew. He was slack-jawed and frozen as he stared at Henry from across the morgue. Henry put the knife down.

“Lucas? Are you well?”

Lucas stuttered out a few inarticulate noises, and then scooped up the box and lid before hurrying over to him.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas hissed. “Are you—should you be doing this?”

Lucas waved a hand at the body, and Henry looked down at it in confusion.

“Most autopsies begin this way. I’ve yet to be able to look inside without a Y-incision.” Henry looked up at Lucas across the table, and in a flash, the confusion and panic made sense. “Oh. You thought I wasn’t coming back.”

Lucas looked away with a guilty, nervous air, then scratched at his head.

“Yeah. I mean, yeah. I didn’t know what was up, but I thought that might’ve been all she wrote on the subject of Dr. Morgan. And considering—you know, the way it all went down, I figured…” He looked at the box dangling from his other hand.

“You thought you were going to be fired today, and brought that to collect your belongings,” Henry finished for him, stripping off his gloves and tossing them in the trash. “Lucas, I am pleased to say that I have not yet been sacked, and that if I continue to have a say in it, neither will you be.”

Lucas’ hopeful, puppy-like joy had a life of its own, and he radiated gratefulness.

“That’s—that’s awesome! That’s great! Okay, well, I guess I don’t have to worry about next month’s rent as much anymore. I was picturing moving back home and into my parents’ basement at this point.”

Henry chuckled, half tempted to tell him there was no shame living with parents—he’d certainly be a hypocrite to think otherwise. Though it was more a case of Henry living with his son than the other way around.

“Go get changed, and you can take over here with Mrs. Iverson.”

“Can do, Doc!” Lucas looked like he would skip from the morgue, and nearly did as he trotted off to the locker room to change into scrubs. He petered to a halt before making it more than a handful of steps, and then came back to Henry.

“Look, um, I wasn’t going to ask because I figured—well, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But if we’re not getting canned… What was up with the knife?”

Henry held his breath, faced with Lucas’ open, trusting expression, his curiosity and worry both likely the cause for the shadows of sleeplessness beneath his eyes.

“It’s a matter that’s closed. Very, definitively closed.” He licked his lips, hesitant. “Lucas, I ask—as a friend—that we leave the matter in the past. It’s done now, and I’m glad it is so. I’m sorry to offer you so little when you did so much for me, but—”

“I get it,” Lucas said. “Time to put the past in the past.”

Henry was taken aback by the quick agreement. He expected more of Lucas’ usual flippancy, but instead Lucas reached out to offer Henry his hand. Henry took it, bemused, and they shook. Lucas had a soft look of understanding, and Henry found himself again, incredibly touched by the man’s kindness.

“Thank you, Lucas.”

“No problem, Henry.” He released Henry and spun, extra energy in his step, and hustled off for the locker room. “I’ll be changed in a minute! Then get ready Mrs. Iverson, because we’re going in!”

Henry watched Lucas go, entirely unable to help the smile that crept over him.

 

***

_Even though the landscape has changed beneath our feet, we do not go alone. In our journey, there are still hands to hold, and friends to journey with. Hold fast to the familiar, embrace the support you have—and then, bravely go forth into the new._

_But sometimes, change can come too fast. We strive to keep up, but we cannot. And that is when we wonder if we can survive in this new landscape._

***

 

Henry was fading fast at his desk, eyes refusing to stay open as he struggled with exhaustion. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and tried to refocus, but there was no hope. He needed to be moving and doing something other than filling out reports.

In the morning when Abe had woken to find Henry already preparing to leave, he’d put up a fuss, demanding he take the day off and relax. In the end Henry had convinced him that they should both move on with a normal day, and left for work. A sleepless night or not, he needed to be doing _something_.

From the moment Jo had knocked on the door, Henry had been lost in a giddy swirl of unreality, and it hadn’t left with her departure late that night. No, it had only been cemented in place when she’d turned to him before leaving through the shop door and moved close, kissed him on the cheek, and then retreated.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Henry,” she’d whispered. And then, a brush of a hand over his, and she was gone.

In that one tiny gesture of sympathy, her acceptance was complete. The simple act of offering condolences over the death of his wife… She believed him. Or, she believed him enough to care. He didn’t know if he cared which it was, but either way it had shaken him free of his moorings.

He hadn’t yet found the way to put his feet back on the ground, and so he was starting here—the job he’d maintained for four years. Death, bodies, his work, his research. This would be the lynchpin by which he’d bring his life back to order.

It was nearly noon, and he had a stack of reports that were complete and could be taken to the detectives. He doubted Jo would be in, but perhaps he could leave them on her desk.

And so, minutes later, with a stack of files in hand he entered the homicide department. There was a congregation of people around Hanson’s desk, with Hanson collapsed in his chair. Jo was standing over his shoulder, patting his back and looking at something clutched in Hanson’s hand. The hubbub of voices was loud, and Henry stopped short to try and ascertain what was going on and the tone of the event.

Jo looked up as two of the sergeants peeled off from the crowd, and she waved a hand to Henry, a broad smile lighting up her face. His nerves zinging from one end of him to the other, firing off every random response from fear to joy, he managed to smile back and approach.

“Hey, Hanson, you wanna tell Henry the news?”

Hanson, however, looked far too absorbed in the paper in his hand—a photo, Henry could see now by the paper. When he didn’t respond, Jo plucked it from him with a snicker of amusement and held it between her fingers, turning it to Henry. She raised an eyebrow.

The image of her at the shop door erased the present. She held the photo of his family between her fingers, demanding answers he couldn’t give. But he could, if he wanted. He could tell her. He could tell her _everything…_

But in the here and now, standing next to a shell-shocked Hanson and surrounded by happy well-wishers, Jo held something else in her hands.

An ultrasound picture. One tiny baby about to be.

“I’m gonna be a dad. Again,” Hanson muttered. He looked up at Henry with desperation. “It’s another boy, Henry. God help me, it’s another boy!”

Henry laughed, and reached over to pluck the fuzzy printed black and white image from Jo’s fingers, looking at it. Yes, indeed, a little boy was coming to join the Hanson clan. He handed it back to Hanson, who took it and stared at it again, shaking his head.

“Congratulations, Mike. I’m sure you will continue to be a wonderful father.”

“I am going to lose my mind,” Hanson countered, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked at the photo.

Henry looked up and met Jo’s eye—she was watching him, had been the whole time. She tipped her head to the side indicating the break room, and he nodded, following when she extracted herself from the other officers and detectives coming to look at the little photo.

Jo shoved her hands in her pockets as she walked, checking around them for listening ears, then stopped them in the hall.

“I know that I pushed into your house yesterday, and your life, and…” She shifted uncomfortably, then tucked her hair behind her ears. “Look, I know you didn’t have to tell me anything. And I want to say thank you. For—for the truth. I’m still trying to—you know. But I will try.”

She was still trying to believe him. He couldn’t blame her, she had only pictures and stories. Those couldn’t battle the fundamental knowledge that life is finite, and death an inescapable reality.

Henry smiled, reassuring.

“Jo, you owe me nothing. I never wanted to lie to you, and I hope you now understand why I did. If you do, then that is more than I can hope for. Certainly more than I ever expected.”

Jo smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, I think I get it. Sort of get it. I don’t know, it’s all a little,” she waved her hands around, making a face, “wacky, you know.”

“Yes, I’m familiar,” Henry responded with a dry tone, and that drew a chuckle from Jo. “But in the meantime, I do have a question for you. I had a conversation with Lieutenant Reece this morning about my future career with the OCME, and I believe I should catch up on exactly what was reported to her about my actions.”

Jo’s smile dropped away, and she nodded, looking around again before she hooked her hand around Henry’s arm and pulled him towards the elevator.

“Yeah, let’s take a walk. It’s going to be fine, but you’re going to have to be on some really good behaviour from now on.”

“I think I can manage that,” Henry said. He put his hand over hers, which made Jo look at him, and he tried to convey all his promises and sincerity. Because he meant it, he really meant it, and more than just his job, or his work. “I don’t want to ruin this. I want to stay.”

Jo bit her lip, then squeezed his arm tightly.

“I want you to stay, too. Come on, let’s go get ourselves on the same page.”

Henry walked at her side, revelling in the feel of her arm in his, the accidental knocking of hips when they walked. He was coming down to earth again, finding himself sinking into the familiar.

Overnight, his life had changed, but there was hope he could make this work.

***

 

_We cannot be afraid of change, of our new lives, for in the new landscape there are new friends to be found and new adventures to be had._

_And, among all these new experiences—you, too, will become new. New, and amazing, and wonderful.  Change is painful, but it is not always bad. And so, in time, it will be okay._

_If there’s anything I’ve learned in this life, it’s that no ending is truly an ending—it’s merely the beginning to a story you haven’t heard yet._


End file.
